Tongue Tied
by PrettyInPink14
Summary: A note is all it takes to turn Kurt's world around, Blaine swooping in to save him from a life of loneliness and hidden emotions. Along the way, Blaine realizes there's more to himself that he originally thought, and Kurt's the only one who can save him from himself and make him see what he's been missing out on. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_**I'm back with another Klaine fic! This should have around three or four parts, and it is rated M for future chapters. Please read and enjoy and review, thank you!** __**  
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_"_I'm in love with you, and I'm not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. I'm in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we're all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we'll ever have, and I am in love with you."

-Augustus Waters  
_The Fault in Our Stars _by John Green

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Kurt wasn't sentimental about very many things. Naturally he cherished the memories of his mother, and anything associated with her, but that was the extent. He didn't believe in holding on to something if it was impractical, such as birthday cards or souvenirs from places he'd visited a hundred times. Kurt saw the items as useless, because he didn't need reminders of when he'd had a good time. He just remembered.

So why, then, was this little scrap of paper, so completely without purpose, still resting on his otherwise immaculate vanity, among his array of face creams and moisturizers? Just a small rumpled square of lined paper, a couple lines scrawled on to it in red ink. It wasn't important - certainly Kurt could just throw it away, discard it for the litter it was.

But every time he tried to put it into his trash bin, something stopped him.

And it wasn't because the handwriting on the paper was so elegant or because the very scent of it was so damn good. It most _certainly_ wasn't about the boy who'd shyly handed Kurt the note.

So why did it matter so damn much?

Why couldn't he bring himself to toss it?

It had been a Monday morning. Kurt was in the process of his ten a.m. touch up ritual, consisting of heavy amounts of hairspray and more than a little lip balm. Kurt was nothing if not punctual and perfectly groomed. He had an image to maintain - being the only outwardly gay kid at McKinley meant people looked up to him for fashion statements (or because he was just taller than most people). If being slammed into lockers could be made trendy, then only Kurt Hummel could make it happen.

Being gay also made Kurt a social pariah. Outside of Glee Club he spoke to no one, and those in Glee with him weren't always friendly either. His sexuality acted as a barrier, and people usually maintained a three foot radius so as not to "catch the gay." In truth he'd never been good at making friends, and never once had someone over to his house. He didn't _need_ anyone, Kurt often reasoned with himself. Sometimes, in order to be outstanding, you had to stand alone.

So when a little "_ahem_" broke through his ever-present haze of hairspray, Kurt jumped at the sound. No one had the nerve to approach him outside of a secure environment such as a classroom, for fear of being outcast along with him. Kurt turned slowly, eyes wide and shocked, to face the person who dared converse with him.

Kurt's cerulean eyes fell upon a mop of dark brown curls, frightened golden eyes, and a shorter but bulkier body. Blaine Anderson, he thought immediately, matching a name to the face. Kurt had always had an excellent memory, and it helped with his people skills. Except he never had people to use them with.

Kurt raised his eyebrows, saying nothing in fear that he would scare the boy away before he had a chance to talk. Blaine looked utterly terrified, and Kurt understood why. Being a transfer student, Blaine knew very little about the school but was probably already warned about one thing many times over: stay away from Kurt Hummel. So Kurt, thinking maybe Blaine would ignore the social stigma and hang around with him, decided the best thing to do would be to wait and listen.

Blaine opened his mouth, giving Kurt a glimpse of straight, pearl white teeth, and attempted words, but all that came out was a loud _whoosh_ of air. Looking thoroughly embarrassed, Blaine began to dig around in his jeans pocket (which were flood-length and _red,_ mind you) and fished out a crumpled piece of paper. Hurriedly he shoved it into Kurt's hand, purposefully looking down and away from Kurt as he ran down the hall, blending in with the crowd so Kurt would have no chance of finding him. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Kurt looked down at the note, expecting hateful slurs or worse.

The emotions that flooded his system upon reading the message could have sent his body into shock.

So what was he, Kurt, to do about it now? He had feelings brewing just under the surface that he had yet to sift through, and more happiness than he knew what to do with.

But what did this boy, beautiful in his youth and innocence, want with Kurt, a striking (if impossibly haughty) reject? There was no one Kurt could go to about this, save his father, but Burt wasn't the most comfortable when he was talking to his son about boys. Desperately, for the first time in a long while, Kurt felt longing for friends to turn to when he was in need of advice and comfort, though he'd never admit to it.

It was something about the note, the way it was so carefully worded and constructed, that led Kurt to believe it was genuine, not some sick joke meant to mess with his head. Glaringly absent were hateful and offensive nicknames such as Ladyface or Fag boy. And it wouldn't have been the first time the football jocks had tricked him into something horrifyingly embarrassing. But the way Blaine had seemed so flustered, so shy and sputtering, made him seem sincere. And there was that _word_, which had never been used in a sentence when referring to him, _ever_. Kurt was many things - incredibly gifted, surreally beautiful, and more arrogant than was good for him; but he was not "extraordinary." In his mind, Kurt was anything but.

Feeling overwhelmed with fierce waves of emotion in that moment, the strength of which threatening to throw him down to his knees, Kurt sat down at his piano and hovered his lithe fingers over the ivory keys. For a moment he paused, eyes closed, and let his years of classical training flood back into his memory. Without opening his eyes, Kurt's hands began to fly over the keys, hitting notes in a flurry of soft and loud. There was no real melody at first, no objective other than testing the waters. He channeled his loneliness and confusion into the delicate harmonies he tentatively created. Kurt hummed along although there was no tune - the piano wasn't even perfectly pitched - but the twinkling sounds were inviting, wrapping around Kurt like a fleece blanket. A tear slipped off his cheek and fell to a B key, and Kurt tapped that note furiously, the sharp _twang_ assaulting his ears and breaking through the trance that had fogged his mind. With an anguished sob, Kurt collapsed onto the keys of the piano, the cacophony of sharps and flats escalating his aggravation and confusion into sheer panic. Kurt cried until his eyes ran dry, not knowing exactly what - or who - he was crying for. The note Blaine had given Kurt opened up the wound left by the death of his mother and the absence of people in his life who loved him. More than anything, although Kurt had put up an aloof and uncaring facade, inside he was dying for someone to see through his hard exterior and realize just how devastatingly ALONE he was. Blaine's simple note - three sentences, eleven words - held more kindness than Kurt had seen in a lifetime.

Kurt curled up in his bed on top of his quilt, knees touching his chest, and hugged himself tight until he fell asleep.

* * *

At school the next day, Kurt was mostly focused on making it through a day without getting a slushie facial and having it ruin another white collared shirt. Although he could pull off anything, raincoats were both out of season and horribly uncomfortable. Because Kurt was preoccupied with repeating his daily mantra of _"You're fine, you're better than all of them, keep your head high,"_ he didn't plan any sort of follow-up to the note Blaine had given him the previous day. He didn't know if it would be expected of him, or if Blaine would even approach him again. It came as a huge surprise to Kurt when he sat in the back of the choir room that afternoon for Glee practice, and saw Blaine waltz into the room in his stupid short pants - a horrible mustard color today - behind Mr. Schue. His face was confident, not cocky; one of few emotions Kurt couldn't pull off. Kurt felt slightly mortified to be in the same room with the other boy, without really knowing exactly why. Blaine didn't look at him, speak to him or come anywhere close to Kurt, yet Kurt couldn't help but feel incredibly nervous, his quivering insides threatening to push his breakfast back up. The boy with the bowtie announced he was "inspired by someone special" - most of the members rolled their eyes, but a small grin surfaced on Kurt's face - "to audition for Glee." Although most people groaned, not wanting any new blood to shake the chemistry already established after two years of competing together, Mr. Schuester looked ecstatic and gave Blaine the floor. The song was dramatic - a show tune Kurt had never heard, and that was saying something - but Kurt was more caught up in the way Blaine performed, all sultry looks and hip sashays and passion. And this was most definitely not the bashful stuttering boy at Kurt's locker the day before - now he was a different person altogether, oozing sex and confidence. Blaine's neck snapped up and met Kurt's stare straight on, and burning fiery gold met stormy waves of blue. Kurt never felt more exhilarated - or turned on - as he did in that moment, cheeks flushing a deep red from, for the first time, arousal instead of embarrassment. His throat constricted and he felt light-headed, the blood fueling his brain beginning to run south. Kurt loosened his tie, meaning to be inconspicuous but failing as he exhaled loudly. Blaine looked up at him triumphantly, finishing his song with a flourish and to the reluctant applause from the rest of the club. Most of the girls exchanged _looks_ and eyebrow waggles, while the boys muttered gay jokes under their breath.

Kurt simply scoffed at them all, disdain written all over his face, feeling a strange sense of pride in that moment, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly why. Blaine didn't mean anything to him, not really - they barely knew each other, the extent of their conversations relating to borrowing writing utensils. Blaine wasn't Kurt's boyfriend - wasn't even his _friend_ - so why was he so hung up over the boy all of a sudden? Sure, he was so gay that flames sparked from his rear end, and clearly showed an interest in Kurt. Not to mention the things Blaine's hips did to Kurt, who was beginning to appreciate the payoff of abdominal workouts. But Blaine _had_ something - correction - _was_ something special. The sparkle in his golden eyes, the way his lips tipped up in the gentlest of smiles, the curls controlled with a faint sheen of gel, even his quirky fashion sense with the bowties and tight sweaters and cuffed pants. His appearance screamed innocent schoolboy, but his personality was spitfire and wild, all in a pint size package. Blaine's voice could have been gifted to him personally by the angels, and the careless ease with which he held himself made Kurt instantly envious, knowing he could never pull off the purposefully nonchalant head nod. Kurt admired the younger boy - no doubt he was gay, but he seemed to own it, wear his heart proudly on his sleeve, and that, Kurt thought, was what kept the bullies away. Maybe Blaine liked boys, but that didn't mean he wasn't tough.

Kurt came to this revelation as Mr. Schuester was welcoming Blaine into the New Directions and then proceeding to discuss songs for regionals. He was so deep in thought he almost didn't notice the boy in the ugly yellow pants drop himself into the chair next to him. Kurt froze up immediately, his crossed legs tensing, his fists balling involuntarily. Eyes blown wide with adrenaline and nerves, Kurt pretended to be studying the white board very intently, but found the fingertips ghosting over his knee very hard to ignore. Kurt swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, but still did not look at Blaine. This kind of PDA - although subtle and innocent - wouldn't go over well if it was noticed by some of the other members of the club, so Kurt shifted his body to the left, now leaning against a filing cabinet. This had effectively moved his body out from under Blaine's touch, and Kurt was grateful that the boy took the hint. The other boy kept his hands to himself for the rest of the Glee club meeting, fidgeting and shifting in his chair but staying silent.

Mr. Schuester finally released them after an hour of vocal practices, which involved scales and silly exercises that made everyone feel ridiculous. Kurt was the first person out of the room, taking long strides in his heeled boots to his locker, fumbling around with the lock as his mind drew blank. Now that he had a moment to himself, the thoughts he had about Blaine (some innocent enough, some unspeakably inappropriate) overwhelmed him. Kurt found that what little he knew of the mysterious boy didn't really add up. He seemed shy one moment, outgoing and fearless the next. Could it have been possible Blaine had been faking the nervous act the previous day when he'd handed Kurt the note? It was possible Blaine was only playing him, messing with him to get into his head . . . Which was exactly what was happened. Kurt promptly felt displeased with himself, and mentally forbade himself to make a big deal out of it. If Blaine wanted him, then he would chase him. All Kurt had to do was sit, look pretty, and wait.

Kurt was almost out the front doors, shoulders slumped after a long exhausting day, when he heard his name. Knowing it could only have been one person, Kurt turned slowly on his heel to face the boy with the cringe-worthy pants.

"Kurt," he repeated, sounding slightly out of breath, as if he'd run to catch up with him. "Glad I caught you."

Up close, with a beaming smile and hands resting gently on his hips, Kurt decided the boy looked _dapper_, like a truly chivalrous gentleman. "Hi," Kurt squeaked, sounding like an excited schoolgirl.

Blaine's smile widened briefly before he turned his gaze to the floor. When he looked back up into Kurt's eyes, which looked bottle green today, there was a spark of mischief amongst the amber. He rocked back and forth slightly on his heels, a quirk Kurt found instantly endearing. "I like your jacket."

Kurt blinked, Blaine's surprising compliment stealing all the words from his head. "Thanks," he replied, fingering the pinstriped blazer. "It's an old Alexander McQueen." There was a moment of awkward silence, Kurt visibly wincing before pushing himself to continue. "You were great in Glee club today."

Blaine seemed genuinely happy about that comment, his grin now stretching ear to ear. "Yeah? Did you like the song?"

Kurt nodded, grateful they'd gotten to a more comfortable and easy topic of conversation. "I thought it was great, really catchy, but I didn't recognize it. What musical is it from?"

"Ahhh, see that's the thing," Blaine said. "It's not from a musical. Well, not _yet_."

"What does that mean?"

"It _means_," Blaine repeated, "I'm writing a musical, and that song was the title song from it."

Kurt felt utterly flabbergasted in that moment, processing what he'd just said. "You're, _writing_, a _musical_? You can't just write a musical!"

"I don't see why not." A bit of color flushed Blaine's face. "I've always really wanted to compose and perform. And why wait till you're older when you can do it now?"

Kurt shook his head in disbelief. "That's great. Blaine." The added name felt foreign on his tongue - they hadn't even properly introduced themselves - but Blaine seemed comfortable with that level of familiarity.

"Did you like my note?"

Kurt had expected Blaine to mention it, or wait for him to, but he didn't expect it to be so outright. "Oh, um, well yes, I suppose-,"

He broke off when Blaine started laughing. "You must think I'm crazy," Blaine choked out in between giggles. "Telling you things like that when we don't even know each other. It's just that I'm shy, with most people. Maybe it doesn't seem like it, but that's what performing brings out in me - it brings out personality. A lot of the time, I have trouble conveying what I think verbally, and so I write it down. I've had that note for over two years, Kurt, and I never planned on giving it to you. But I was watching you at your locker, and you had this sad look on your face, like you were fixing more than your hair. You were fixing your mask, to wear around so people couldn't see the real you underneath. And I figured you needed a pick me up, something to lift your spirits, because you are too special to ever be sad about anything. I walked up to you and I had planned what I was going to say, but then I saw you and I lost the words and I handed you the note and ran." Blaine paused to take a deep breath. "When I was little, I had a series of operations on my throat." He ran his fingers lightly over the thin shiny scar running vertically along his throat from chin to collarbone. "I was premature, and my vocal chords were underdeveloped. I needed reconstructive surgery until I was twelve years old. Every time after I had a surgery, I would lose my ability to speak, sometimes for months on end. That was horrifying for me in school - people didn't like me because they didn't understand me. After I finally finished my last surgery and healed from it, I decide never to take my voice for granted again. I took up singing, found I was actually good at it despite everything I'd been through. I never stopped speaking or singing or writing or composing, because I needed to communicate with people in the best and loudest way I knew how, never for a moment taking for granted how fortunate I was to keep my voice. After what I went through, I decided not to let inhibitions keep me from saying how I feel. You were the only exception, Kurt. When I transferred here in my freshman year and you were a grade above me, I was star struck by you. I went to every performance and function you performed at, craving your attention but also wanting to stay in the background for a while longer. I wanted to talk to you, but every time, I went completely numb. Something about you, your face, your don't-give-a-shit attitude . . . You left me speechless, Kurt. Something I swore I'd never be again; yet, for you, I don't mind."

Kurt was utterly mind blown, couldn't even fathom a response, but there was no need. Blaine took his face gently between his hands, his eyes so sure and steady, and their lips connected softly. It was tender and slow and was over before it had even begun, but Kurt didn't mind in the slightest. Blaine's hands traveled down Kurt's shoulders and arms to his hands, where they linked fingers. Kurt leaned down to nuzzle his nose into the shorter boy's neck, breathing in the comforting musky scent and knowing already that it would be so hard to say goodbye to this boy.

"Was that okay?" Blaine breathed into his ear.

Kurt sighed contently. "Perfect."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again! This chapter is a bit shorter than the first one, but there's some deep stuff here! Thank you all so much for the alerts, they've been filling my inbox and that makes me a very happy girl! So excited to share this new chapter, please tell me what you thought of it! Thank you all so much, enjoy! xoxo**

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_To live in hearts we leave behind  
Is not to die.  
_~Thomas Campbell

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There was a new light in Kurt's eyes, illuminating not only his face but the whole room, his beaming smile for once not going unnoticed. Rachel, a girl who was annoying but kind, called out to him in Glee club that afternoon. "What's up with you, Kurt?"

Knowing he couldn't say the real reason why he was grinning so widely, he shared a private glance with Blaine before turning back to the brunette. "Just had a good day."

And it was true. Although his popularity hadn't shot up as he'd hoped, people stopped pushing him around after they found out he was hanging around with Blaine. Undoubtedly they still said nasty things behind thier backs, but Kurt preferred that to syrupy ice baths.

Blaine's confession had been both unexpected and enlightening. The two were such opposites: Blaine was expressive and kind and exuberant, while Kurt was closeted (literally), proud and introverted. After Blaine told him about his surgeries, and how lucky he was to have any voice at all, it made Kurt realize how much he was exploiting his talent by not using it. Sure, he was in Glee club, but when was the last time he'd ever sung a solo? Or stepped up in group numbers with a mind blowing note he was more than capable of producing? Kurt decided he wouldn't let people push him around anymore. He was Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, and he was damn good. About time everyone else knew it.

At Blaine's insistence - he could be quite convincing when he used his tongue - Kurt performed for the first time alone in front of the New Directions. To his surprise, it was well-received, Finn even going so far as to clap him on the back. When Kurt sat back down into his seat next to Blaine, they slid their hands together behind the chairs, smiling at each other in secret. Finally, _finally_, Kurt had someone to share the ups and downs of his life with. It suddenly made all the suffering seem worthwhile.

It was only a few weeks into their relationship, but on a cool crisp autumn day, Kurt took Blaine home to meet his dad. He knew it was a big step, and his hands shook underneath their gloves as they pulled into Hummel Tires and Lube. Kurt looked over to Blaine, who was wrapping his green striped scarf around his neck, and grabbed his hand. "Ready?"

Blaine stared into Kurt's eyes for a moment, swimming with emotion. "Of course," he replied.

Kurt's mouth twisted, considering for a moment, before sweeping Blaine's hair back behind his ears, only succeeding in mussing it more from the static cling of his wool gloves. "Sorry," he laughed, placing a kiss to the other boys cheek.

They walked into the tire shop, the strong stench of oil pervading the air. "Dad?" Kurt called out, setting his school bag behind the desk under the register, gesturing for Blaine to do the same.

"Yeah?" Burt answers, sliding out from under a car, wrench in hand.

Kurt smiled shyly at his dad, giving him an awkward wave. "You got a minute? I have something to tell you."

Burt groaned, face wincing as he stood and stretched his spine. "You didn't get anyone pregnant, did you?"

Blaine let out a little bark of laughter, but returned to silence under Kurt's furtive glare, looking chagrined but still amused.

"Who's this?" Burt asked, gesturing to Blaine as he wiped his hands on a dirty rag. The man looked uncomfortable, never having met one of his son's friends before, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Kurt blushed a deep red, which Blaine had always found charming. The dark-haired boy was about to introduce himself before Kurt cut him off. "Dad, this is my boyfriend-," Kurt hadn't even hesitated on the word, though they hadn't yet discussed it, "-Blaine."

Burt eyed him for a moment, sizing the boy up as he stuck out his hand. "Blaine Anderson," said Blaine stoically. If the situation were less tense, Kurt would have laughed at Blaine's strained serious expression.

To Kurt's immense relief, Burt slid his hand into Blaine's, shaking it firmly. "Burt," he grunted.

Kurt, having thought his father would begin asking personal questions or yell or react in any way, had no idea what to do next. Thankfully Blaine stepped up. "Need some help with that?" he asked, gesturing over to the car Burt was working on previously.

Burt narrowed his eyes suspiciously, rubbing his hands together. "You know anything about cars?"

"Yes," Blaine replied enthusiastically. "Worked on a few of 'em with my dad. It kept me occupied. I was a rather...hyperactive child." Kurt chuckled under his breath and disguised it with a cough.

Burt grunted again. "Grab a five-eighths wrench and some coveralls, because this is messy work." He pointed out the uniforms hanging on hooks on the walls.

Within five minutes, Blaine was under the car with Kurt's dad, doing god knows what as Kurt looked on, hands resting on crossed legs, positively glowing from the reception his dad had given Blaine. There had been no judgment, no dismay or disappointment, only sheer curiosity. Kurt could deal with that, if it meant Blaine got to stick around.

* * *

Kurt drove Blaine back to his house to wash his hands of the grease and grime from the workshop. There was a full bathroom in the shop, of course, but Kurt wanted some time alone with his boyfriend for the first time in a while.

"You're staying for dinner, by the way," Kurt told him through the closed bathroom door, leaning against the wall on the other side of the hall. "I'm making salmon mousse with a _pâté de foie gras_ and wild rice risotto. It's going to be delicious."

He could hear Blaine laugh through the door over the sound of the running water. "I literally have no idea what you just said, but your French was damn sexy."

Blaine opened the door and appeared before Kurt, back into his regular clothing and hands rid of most of the oil. Kurt noticed how the other boy's face lit up immediately, golden eyes burning and glowing. "You're beautiful," he whispered, striding across the hall and taking Kurt into his arms, pulling him flush against his body. Kurt's heartbeat picked up audibly, the blood rushing in his ears and through the tips of his fingers

Kurt had become used to the seemingly sudden compliments, even began to look forward to them, because they were always at an unexpected moment and always made him feel warm and soft inside. At first it was odd and random, but Kurt attributed it to a part of Blaine's personality, how open and honest he was with everyone. Blaine had no qualms about speaking his mind, and while that occasionally got him into trouble, Kurt admired him for being so fearless.

Kurt wasn't yet desensitized – never thought he really _could _be – to the praise Blaine gave him, only because no one had flattered him in that way for a long time, since probably before his mom died. His dad wasn't an overly affectionate person and Kurt never expected to receive compliments from classmates. He suspected that Blaine had picked up on this, therefore going out of his way to spoil Kurt with sweet words at every opportunity.

"I like that you called me your boyfriend," Blaine spoke softly into his ear. "Because I can't imagine losing you to someone else."

"You won't," Kurt assured him.

"Good," Blaine said, and Kurt could feel him smirk into the hollow of his throat. "Because that would just break my heart."

Kurt said nothing, only clutched his boyfriend tighter to his chest and tried to breathe past the emotion building up in his throat.

* * *

Kurt flung himself down onto the couch with little grace, settling back into the comfortable cushions. It had been a long, exhausting, and very fulfilling night. His eyes were halfway closed, eyelids fluttering as he began to drift off to sleep, when Burt walked into the living room and sat himself down on the couch next to Kurt.

"You did a great job on dinner tonight, bud," Burt commented, popping the cap on his can of beer. "That salmon thing was really tasty."

Kurt smiled at his dad, peering at him with one eye closed. "Thanks dad," he whispered, too tired to raise his voice to a more audible volume. "Really. Thank you, for everything."

Burt nodded in understanding, sipping his beer in contemplative silence for a moment. Kurt, recognizing the thoughtful look on his father's face, sat up and turned to face him properly, tucking one leg under him and gripping his bent knee. Burt's eyebrows narrowed and turned back to his son. "I like Blaine," he said. "He's a real good kid. Smart head on his shoulders."

Kurt blushed, not from embarrassment but because he was pleased his dad approved of Blaine. His opinion meant more to Kurt than he'd originally thought. "Glad you think so," he murmured truthfully.

"Your mother would have liked him too, Kurt."

Kurt met his father's eyes, which were moist with tears. He felt his own eyes burning and the familiar sensation of his stomach twisting that he always associated with his mother now. Kurt wrapped his arms across his own chest protectively, curling up on himself and trying to keep the pain from escaping through his lips. A tear slipped from his eye and gathered in the corner of his mouth, which did nothing but upset him more.

"I know you miss her, Kurt," Burt continued, frowning in the way he always did when talking about his late wife. Awkwardly he reached out, tentative at first, but took one of Kurt's hands in his. Kurt squeezed his fingers, finding an anchor there and surfacing from the waves of grief crashing over his head. Burt shook his head slowly. "God, I miss her more than anything. People say that it gets easier, but it doesn't really, does it? You just find a way to distance yourself from the pain, but it's always there, always ready to overwhelm you the minute you let yourself succumb to it." He paused for a moment to collect himself, then shifted his gaze to look Kurt in the eye straight on. "I've watched you suffer every day since she passed, always in silence. When you thought I wasn't looking, you'd wipe your eyes or curl your arms around your chest like you were . . . protecting yourself. I hated seeing you in pain, but there was nothing I could do. Nothing I said or did would have brought your mom back, Kurt. Nothing could have lessened the ache and emptiness. I know it, because I still feel it, right here, in my gut." He gestured vaguely to his stomach. "I roll over in bed and imagine that she's laying there next to me, talking to me about her day like nothing had happened. I can close my eyes and I can hear the sound of her voice, her laugh . . ." Burt trailed off as his voice broke and faltered. "And you had to go through that when you were just a little boy, and that's what kills me. She _loved _you, Kurt. Even though she said it to you every day, it was something you saw in her _eyes . . . _She devoted herself to you, Kurt. When you were a baby and you were screaming at the top of your lungs for no reason other than just to scream, your mother would sit with you all night, hushing you and rocking you even though she knew there was no chance you'd calm down until the morning.

"I wish she'd been around for you to grow up, of course. She would have been better with some of this—," he waved his hand around in the air ambiguously, "—_stuff_. I never expected to have to talk to my son about boys, but I'm doing my best. You know that, right?"

Kurt nodded, pursing his lips tightly.

Burt continued. "Right. I just . . . seeing you tonight, with Blaine, made me realize how quickly you'd grown up. Right under my nose, you became this amazing young man, and I don't tell you often enough how proud I am to be your father. And all these years, since your mother passed away, all I've wanted was for you to be happy. And now, with Blaine, it's obvious how happy he makes you. You just . . . light up. Your whole face just brightens. It makes me happy to know that you're happy. That's . . . all. All I ever wanted for you."

The tears were falling freely down Kurt's face now, his heart tightening with sadness and affection. He leaned across the couch to put his arms around Burt for a tight hug. Burt hugged his son, clinging on to Kurt and relishing the closeness that had been absent from their relationship for a long time. He rubbed his back like he had when Kurt was a child and had been frightened by a nightmare, an automatic gesture of comfort that immediately began to calm his son down.

Kurt pulled away, a reluctant smile pulling at his mouth. "Thanks dad," he said again, his voice thick with emotion.

Burt returned the smile, stroking Kurt's cheek briefly. "You're welcome, bud. Oh, and Kurt?"

Kurt raised his eyebrows.

"Tell Blaine that if he breaks your heart, I'll personally hunt him down."

* * *

Kurt sat down at his piano, breathing in deeply for a few moments. When his fingers stroked across the keys, the cool ivory making his fingertips tingle, Kurt felt grounded. This was instilled into him, something that existed in his very core, something that would never be lost or taken away. This love, the passion and devotion he gave to music, would always be with him. And for the first time, Kurt felt free to relinquish it and let it flood his body and through his fingers onto the piano and into the melody.

Burt listened to his son tinker lightly on his piano from downstairs, unused to the sound but not realizing how much he'd missed it until Kurt had stopped playing. It used to be a nightly routine – Kurt would sit down at his piano before bed and play sonatas and original compositions until he was forced by Burt to retire to bed. Kurt stopped after a while, probably after he grew up enough to realize how much playing the piano reminded him of his mother, and how much it hurt to play songs that _she _used to play for _him. _

But the song was no longer melancholy and sad, like Burt had become accustomed to. It was light, free and airy, full of promise and hope. Burt's chest swelled with pride, and he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Kurt was happy at last. Burt could rest easier now.

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**Thank you again for reading! Love you xoxo**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's Chapter 3! Hope you like it, thank you for waiting! I really appreciate the support, and please continue to favorite and review!**_  
_

**Also, the song quoted below is SO good, and I really recommend you listen to it.**

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_"I could sing a million songs in perfect key,  
__And I could perform a Broadway show up on a stage,  
__But in front of you my mind goes blank...  
__There's something about your flawless smile that weakens me,  
__And it ties my tongue every time."_

_-'Out of Words'  
_Jesse McCartney

* * *

Kurt watched his boyfriend warily from his perch on the edge of the bed, looking on as Blaine poked through Kurt's belongings with a keen curiosity. At first Kurt had been reluctant to let Blaine paw through his possessions, but relented after some persuasion. Blaine would pick up a book or knick-knack from Kurt's shelves, study it for a moment, and then move on to the next object. It hadn't taken long for Kurt to realize the other boy had the attention span of a hummingbird - his mind flitted from one thing to the next with no pause. The only activity Blaine could concentrate on for more than a few minutes was kissing Kurt.

For someone who had never been kissed before a month ago, Kurt had done a lot of kissing in that span of time. Blaine was a physical person; not sexually, per say, but he did seem to enjoy_ showing_ Kurt how he felt about him quite a bit. Kurt still felt his heart flutter every time Blaine took his hand or placed a kiss to his lips, simple things that still left him breathless and always wanting more.

Blaine was now wandering away from Kurt's bookshelves, moving more toward his vanity, examining the various facial masks and skin treatments. Exploring each others' bedrooms had been Blaine's idea; he said it built trust and a greater understanding for the other person. And now that Kurt's possessions were being ransacked by nosy hands, he could see how Blaine had been right. Kurt felt exposed, vulnerable to whatever Blaine might come across. (Not that Kurt had anything to hide, anyway. Certainly not.)

Finally Blaine came full circle in the room, fingers streaking along the shiny reflective surface of the baby grand piano placed catty-corner on the far side of the room from Kurt's bed.

"C'mon," Kurt whined, reaching out for his boyfriend from across the room. "You said we could make out when you finished."

Blaine chose to ignore him, sliding gingerly onto the bench seat of the piano. Immediately his posture improved; he sat up straight, shoulders back, wrists poised to play. Kurt instantly knew that he had also been classically trained. He held his breath, hoping Blaine would play something.

The curly- haired boy seemed to consider it for a moment, cocking his head as if recalling the tune, but then his shoulders slumped once again and his arms returned to his sides. He twisted around to look at Kurt. "I didn't know you played."

Kurt blushed. "I don't, usually. I've only recently . . . picked it back up."

Blaine turned around fully, crossing his legs and leaning forward as if to listen to Kurt better. "How come?"

"Well I - I sort of dropped it after . . ."

"After . . .?"

"After my mom died."

Kurt heard Blaine suck in a loud breath, blinking a few times in shock. His amber eyes seemed to glisten with intensity. "God Kurt, I'm so sorry."

"What for?" Kurt shrugged, shaking his head. "You didn't know. And it happened a long time ago."

Blaine stood, walking over slowly to the bed, as if Kurt was a shy animal he didn't want to scare off. He tenderly took Kurt's hands, settling on to the bed next to him. Kurt figured he would say something like "It's going to be okay"- it was the standard excuse for a reply when you couldn't think of anything else to say. Kurt had heard that too many times in his life - he had actually, at one point, _believed_ it was true. But he grew up and faced the reality that no amount of time or well-intended words would bring his mom back.

Thankfully, Blaine didn't say anything. Instead, he took Kurt's face into his hands and kissed him - hard. Kurt latched on and responded immediately with equal vigor. A tender kiss at that moment could have made him fall apart; he needed this aggressiveness and fire, this blind passion with no thoughts or inhibitions or fear. Only Blaine's touch had the power to make him forget.

Blaine's hands were roaming his body, breathing hard into Kurt's mouth as he undid the buttons of Kurt's shirt. The curly-haired boy's fingers slid under the fabric, feeling the gentle curves and contours of his body, leaving a burning path in their wake. Blaine's mouth was moving south, over the column of Kurt's throat to latch on to the skin of his sharp collarbone, biting and soothing the skin with kitten licks. Kurt's voice was low and needy in his ear, moaning deliciously; his hips bucked up into Blaine's, fingers tight on his biceps. Pleasure clouded every inch of Blaine's brain, making it impossible to think about anything other than touching and tasting Kurt.

Unfortunately, Kurt seemed to have a bit more self-control. With a grunt he pushed Blaine up and off his body, flipping him on to the other side of the bed with surprising ease. Blaine was panting, and he could hear Kurt was similarly out of breath.

"Sorry," Kurt finally managed to say. "I just needed to . . . cool down. I'm just not - not ready yet-"

"It's fine," Blaine interjected breathlessly. "I may have gone a little far. I just wanted to get that sad look off your face." He turned to look at his boyfriend, a smile creeping across his face as he peered into Kurt's brilliant blue eyes. "They change color. Your eyes," he clarified.

"Oh." For whatever reason, Kurt seemed embarrassed by this. "I didn't know that. I just thought they were blue. What color are they now?"

Blaine reached out and touched Kurt's face under his eye with a calloused fingertip. "A sky blue with flecks of gold. But before when we kissing, they were almost a stormy gray."

The smallest of smiles graced Kurt's face just then, still marred by the misery of his mother's memory. He turned his face into Blaine's palm, placing a kiss there and letting his lips linger.

Blaine could tell he was hiding from it, doing his best to avoid having to speak of the tragedy that clearly still plagued him. His hand involuntarily began stroking Kurt from shoulder to fingertips, a circuit that comforted the boy enough that his story was coaxed out of him.

"My mother loved to play piano," Kurt began, his voice lilting and melancholy. "She taught me how to play, though she'd never had formal lessons either. She always said that it was in my blood to be musical." That seemed to amuse Kurt, a happier time probably surfacing in his thoughts. "She was strict, too. Made me practice every day after school, even if it was the last thing I wanted to do. But I suppose it paid off." He paused to wipe his tears on his shirt. "I was young, so some of my memory is probably confused with what people told me, but when I was around seven, she got sick. I hardly noticed, being my carefree child self, but I see now what I didn't see back then. She was out of the house often, or sometimes too sick to get out of bed. I never thought anything was amiss, until-," his voice broke off in a choked sob, "-Until she told me goodbye."

Blaine's heart sank in his chest like a rock.

"I came home after school one day, and she called me up to her bedroom. She was laying under the coves, her face was pale and grey. I remember thinking she was playing a game." His laugh was not at all humorous. "She pulled me into her lap, even though I was too big for that by then. She kissed my forehead and said, 'Kurt, remember that mommy loves you. Remember that mommy is sorry.'"

Blaine's tears threatened to spill over onto his cheeks, his throat closing up and his nose burning, but he pushed away the urge to let them free. For right now, Kurt needed him to stay together so he could crumble. He snatched the older boy up into his arms and squeezed him tightly, as if he would fall apart without someone to hold him together. And maybe that was true.

Kurt said nothing more, and he didn't have to. Blaine was familiar with the way death crept inside a person silently, taking them from your life all at once, without a warning or a chance to say I love you one more time. Both of Blaine's paternal grandparents had passed away, of different causes but around the same time. His dad always said that Grandpa died of a broken heart - he just couldn't live without his wife by his side.

Maybe Blaine didn't believe in true love, which was mostly influenced by his parents' strained relationship, but the boy did believe in anchors. He believed that there would be one person in your life, no matter the age or gender or relation, who would hold you to the earth. Soul mates were ridiculous notions meant to convince people that they were destined to be with one person the rest of their lives. There was no _one_ person on the planet who you are meant to be with; that would take away any semblance of free will. But one person will keep your feet on the ground, no matter how lost or sky bound you become; they will anchor you to life. They become what you live _for_.

Blaine sincerely believed Kurt was his anchor. In that moment, he never felt more connected to another being than the quivering boy in his arms. And he knew, with his arms wrapped protectively around Kurt's middle, that he would do anything to defend him. Come hell or high water, Blaine would prevent him from experiencing any more pain than he already has.

When Kurt had calmed down and was nuzzling into Blaine's side, he felt safe and warm enough to speak again. "I think my mother's death affected me more than I realized. After the . . . _news _spread, my teachers stopped grading my work, my friends shied away from me and my perpetual gloominess. I hated that people were treating me different. I never really left that behind; the arrogance and unadulterated sarcasm I hid behind was a defense mechanism, meant to keep people away who would hurt me the same way my mom's death did. I just wanted _friends, _and to not get slammed into lockers, and to have my _mom _back . . ." A strangled cough left his throat. "I didn't realize I was going about it the wrong way."

"What do you mean?"

"I was waiting for someone to come to _me. _I never thought about approaching someone and asking them to hang out, or go on a date with me. I don't think it ever occurred to me. If you hadn't worked up the nerve to come up to me . . . we probably would never have gotten together. Which scares me – I mean, how many opportunities did I miss out on growing up because I was too afraid to commit myself to anyone or anything?"

Blaine pondered this for a moment, his hands still rubbing Kurt's arms soothingly. "I can't tell you that," Blaine replied. "But I can encourage you to step out of your comfort zone more. That's what I'm here for, right? To support you."

"Yeah," Kurt said quietly, sniffling.

"And you performed a solo in front of the Glee club, Kurt. That's huge for you. Now maybe if you're ready, you can audition for a solo for Regionals."

"Yeah, maybe," Kurt said, his voice sounding far away and sleepily.

Within a few minutes, Kurt was asleep, sprawled out across Blaine's chest and lap. The boy chuckled, leaning back and figuring he might as well take a quick nap too, when a flash of white caught his eye. On the table next to Kurt's bed, folded up and tucked under his lamp, was a small square of lined paper. With a smile widening on Blaine's face, he pulled the paper out and unfolded it carefully, not wanting the sound to wake Kurt. There, in familiar scrawling red ink, was Blaine's note, crinkled and wore down but still legible.

_Don't listen to everyone else.  
You're extraordinary, Kurt.  
Never forget that._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four is here! Not much to say here, just to thank everyone for the support and comments! It means more to me than I can express. By the way, there was a rather large time jump. That's made apparent later on.**

* * *

"_But I believe in true love, you know? I don't believe that everybody gets to keep their eyes or not get sick or whatever, but everybody should have true love, and it should last at least as long as your life does."_

_-The Fault In Our Stars  
_John Green

* * *

"I can't believe you took me _here_," Kurt said.

Blaine laughed, dragging his boyfriend behind him. The late February sun was beating down on the pair, doing little to warm them but effectively blinding them, the fresh snow reflecting the light brilliantly. The wind was pleasant on their faces, however, signaling that the day might get warmer yet. Blaine strode up to the ticket window and purchased two admission slips, pushing through the turnstile and on to the cream-colored pavement on the other side. Kurt copied him, though his face looked decidedly more embarrassed. He shook his head once more in disbelief. "Okay," Kurt relented. "Where to first?"

Blaine grinned at him, pulling him in close to his body and walking along the path, past various concession stands and advertisements for upcoming events. There seemed to be many people out that day despite the time of year, mostly parents chasing around their small children. Some shot the pair of boys questioning glances but kept to themselves. Blaine led Kurt up to the gate of the first exhibit - Bengal tigers.

Kurt let out a little squeal of delight, pressing right up against the cage to get a closer look. This had been purposeful, no doubt - he had told Blaine just the other day that tigers were his favorite animals.

There were two in the habitat at the moment. Both were regal and majestic, with thick orange fur striped with black, its head lined with white. The one closest to them turned its head in their direction, its gleaming golden eyes sparkling back at them.

"They're so beautiful," Kurt cooed.

"So are you," Blaine replied quietly, but it still carried to Kurt's ears. The smile on his face grew wider, and he pulled Blaine along to the other side, closer to the male. He was much larger and fiercer looking, with massive paws and a neck as thick as a tree trunk. "Here kitty kitty," Kurt called to him, talking to the tiger through the cage. "You're so pretty, yes you are-"

"Kurt? You _do_ know that thing would eat you if given the chance, right?"

Kurt shrugged. "I have no reason to be scared of them. Who says he wants to eat me any more than I want to harm him?"

To this the tiger let out a ferocious roar, opening its mouth and bearing its intimidating rows of teeth. Kurt jumped back, into Blaine's arms, who was laughing heartily and squeezing Kurt close to him. "You okay?"

Kurt looked pale. "Yeah." There was a distinct link color rising in his cheeks. "Let's just go."

"Okay." Blaine took Kurt's hand in his and they set off deeper into the zoo, enjoying the feeling of being relaxed with each other. Kurt shivered, the cold still chilling him through his long-sleeved shirt. Usually Kurt was one for layers, but Blaine's dates were typically last-minute and spontaneous, and he didn't have the opportunity to piece together a carefully-planned outfit. Blaine unzipped his navy blue sweatshirt and handed it to Kurt who pulled it over his shoulders gratefully. There was something intimate and comforting about wearing someone else's clothes – almost a feeling of stepping into their skin.

"I'm going to show you _my _favorite animals," Blaine told him, as they walked along a path, stopping quickly to admire some rhinoceroses.

"Bunnies?" Kurt joked.

"Haha, very funny," Blaine replied. "But they're a bit tougher than bunnies."

The exhibit they stopped at wasn't as large as the tiger habitat, but there were more trees and foliage that hid the animals inside for a moment. And then, as if it could sense the boys, a gray wolf emerged from among the greenery, peering at the humans with intelligent blue eyes. Kurt sucked in an involuntary gasp; maybe tigers were majestic, but this wolf was downright _dangerous_. Even relaxed, his stance screamed predator. But, as imposing as he was, he held an inner beauty that made him so regal and something about it made it hard for Kurt to look away. Its gaze trapped you there, rooted to the spot while it planned the best way to attack. But that was silly – these were wolves living in captivity, they couldn't hunt him even if they wanted to. And there _were _more – more reflective eyes started to peek out from the darkness, most holding only curiosity in their eyes, and Kurt realized it must have been the alpha that looked so hostile. He was defending his pack.

"Aren't they gorgeous?" Blaine breathed, wonder shining in his amber eyes.

"Yeah," Kurt answered. "I never really realized before how beautiful they could be. I didn't know there were wolves in Ohio."

"They're probably not native to Ohio," Blaine answered.

"You know they mate for life," Kurt said absent-mindedly.

Blaine turned his head to look at his boyfriend, his eyes raised. "How'd you know that?"

Kurt shrugged. "I like the Discovery channel, I find it interesting. Wolves only have one sexual partner in their lifetime. I think that's pretty amazing."

Blaine inclined his head curiously. "Why?"

Kurt met his eyes nervously. "Because not even humans mate for life. We have such an innate desire to satisfy our libidos that we don't even have enough control to really _choose _the person it's with. Wild animals are more monogamous than humans. That just amazes me."

"That's not necessarily true," Blaine retorted half-heartedly.

"Really?" Kurt turned his whole body toward him, his back now to the wolves. "How many people any more only sleep with one person in their whole lifetime? Hell, how many people actually wait until _marriage _before engaging in any sexual activity? It's just not in human nature to be monogamous." Kurt broke off, touching his face and was shocked to find his fingers came away wet.

"Kurt?" Blaine's voice was timid.

"Do you love me?" Kurt's voice was rushed and harsh, vocal cords closing up in his throat.

"I—" It was the first time Blaine had run out of words to say. How could he possibly answer Kurt when he didn't even _believe _in love?

"Because I love you," Kurt interjected angrily. "I love you so much that I can't even breathe when you're near me. I love you so much that my whole body _aches _when you leave. I love you so much that my body shuts down and I can't think or see or function properly, because all I want to do is kiss you and tell you that I love you, and I want you to say it back. And you can't, can you?" Only in the question did Kurt's voice hold a note of tenderness.

Eyes wide and utterly speechless, Blaine could only shake his head, shame evident in his face.

"Why?" Kurt's voice cracked loudly. People who were passing by began to stare, but he ignored them. "We've been dating for almost five months. Every time I try to say something, you interrupt me with a compliment or a kiss, but you never talk to me about what _you're _feeling. I just feel like I'm . . . _stuck _with you, and we're not moving forward or backward. I've never felt about _anyone _the way I feel about you, Blaine, and I can't handle being in a relationship with you if you can't reciprocate that."

"Kurt . . ." There was pain rising up in Blaine's chest, squeezing his heart tightly. "It's not that I don't love you, it's just—"

"You just don't _love _me, right? You can't live without me, you can't see a future, can't even see right in front of your face?"

Blaine froze. "Where'd you hear that?"

Kurt swallowed hard. "Last week when we were watching a movie in your room, you went downstairs to get some snacks and I . . . explored a bit. I wasn't being nosy, but there was sheet music you left by your piano, and I was curious to see what you were practicing. I thought maybe it was from the musical that you were writing, and I know you didn't want me to see it until it was finished, but I really wanted to know. _Tongue Tied _didn't seem like a classical piece, and besides, it was handwritten, so I thought maybe I'd found it. The lyrics were beautiful, I didn't even realize it was about me until—"

"Until you saw your name?" Blaine guessed.

Kurt nodded, a wry smile twisting his features. "I didn't want to believe it at first – I thought maybe I was reading too deeply into it, that maybe it wasn't as bad as it seemed. But it is, isn't it? _He's too close to breaking/and I can't seem to bend/there's light after the tunnel/but where does the darkness end?"_

"Kurt, stop—"

"_I'm choked up with words/that I can't seem to say/there's a cost to this madness/how much will I pay?"_

"Kurt, _please—"_

"_I'm tongue tied/suffocating in silence/screaming to escape/but I just stay quiet." _Kurt's tears had stopped, and now he was towering over Blaine, pulling himself up to his full height of nearly six feet. His whole body was trembling and his voice was barely a hissed whisper. "_I can't love you Kurt/when there's too much pain/so let the floods begin/bring on the rain." _A pause. "Were you ever going to tell me, or were you just going to keep leading me on forever?"

Blaine was still in shock, as if he'd been thrown into icy water. He hadn't expected his own song lyrics to be thrown back in his face that way. He mumbled something incoherently.

"What was that?"

Blaine still couldn't meet Kurt's icy blue eyes. "I said that I don't _believe _in love, Kurt. I don't really believe that two people can love each other indefinitely and unconditionally. I honestly don't believe in marriage or choosing one person to be with for the rest of your life. You're my anchor Kurt, and I can't live without you, but if a promise is what you need from me, then I can't be involved with you romantically. I can't commit to you the way you need and deserve. I care about you, I love being with you . . . but I'm not someone who can just throw around words like _forever _and _eternity_ and not really mean them. You should be with someone who will offer you the things I can't, Kurt. I'm sorry it has to be like this, but lying to you hurt too much."

"Well," Kurt said, and his voice was thick with emotion. "I hope losing me hurts more."

Kurt fled from him without a backward glance.

* * *

Kurt slammed his front door with a loud _thud_, stomping up the stairs and throwing open the door to his dad's bedroom. He was grateful he was home alone, his dad still working down at the shop for a few more hours, so he could have some alone time without questions or interruptions. Kurt opened the bottom drawer of his dad's dresser and pulled out a small bottle of perfume, more than half empty. He pressed down on the nozzle and the spray lingered in the air for a moment before drifting down onto Kurt and the carpet he was sitting on. He let it settle a moment and then inhaled deeply, and the scent of his mother filled his nostrils and reached his brain, and his memory recalled more pleasant times that almost overshadowed the terrible twisting feeling in his stomach before they faded and he was left stumbling over the edge into darkness.

He stood then, anger seeping slowly into his bones, his mother's memory doing nothing but spurring the rage, and strode quickly over to his bedroom across the hall. Kurt grabbed the nearest picture frame his fingers could reach – it was from Christmas, when Blaine came over to help him decorate the tree – and threw it as hard as he could, grinning maniacally as it smashed loudly against the opposite wall, glass shattering everywhere. Kurt picked up another frame – this one contained the pair mid-celebration after winning Regionals, embracing tightly. Without hesitation he let it drop to the ground, bringing his boot on top of it and grinding it under his feet until it too was cracked and broken. There was no remorse in his mind, no guilt for ruining the expensive frames or making such a disastrous mess. Kurt continued right along, continuing to his bookshelf, tearing a photo album from among his textbooks. Most of the pictures were from their dates, at the ice rink or bowling or watching a show at the community theater, and a couple were candids taken by Burt or another glee club member. Kurt took pleasure in ripping every last one to mere shreds, taking care to maim Blaine's face beyond all recognition. After he'd finished tearing down the pictures stuck into his mirror and thrown away the birthday card Blaine had given him, he looked around the room, satisfied with himself for having gotten rid of anything related to him. It was only when he glanced at himself in the mirror that he realized he was still wearing the sweatshirt Blaine had given him, and tore it off quickly in horror. Unable to touch it to pick it up, and risk catching a whiff of his scent, Kurt left it on the floor, instead choosing to collapse on to his bed. It was only once he was amongst the fluffy pillows and down comforter that he let himself go, keening quietly and reliving what had happened between Blaine and him earlier that day. Kurt reached out a hand to his bedside table, meaning to grab his cell phone. What he needed desperately was someone to talk to, and recently Mercedes, a girl from glee club, had recently become his sort-of confidante. Because he couldn't go to Blaine like he normally would in a situation where he was upset, he figured she would suffice just as well. Maybe she could give him some helpful girl advice.

But his fingers brushed against something else, and that made him pause. It was rough and crinkled, probably a piece of paper. He furrowed his eyebrows, not being one to litter, grabbed the mysterious slip and pulled it toward him. Once he realized what it was, his heart caught in his throat and stopped beating altogether.

_Don't listen to everyone else. _

_No_, Kurt thought to himself, his eyes squeezing closed. _He's not worth the heartache. Rip it up and throw it away. _But his hands refused to obey, and he kept reading.

_You're extraordinary, Kurt._

_Not extraordinary enough, apparently, if you were willing to just let me go like that. _Kurt pressed his fingers to his eyes in an effort to stop himself from reading more, already knowing what it would say and how it would make him feel, but nevertheless he reopened his eyes and finished the note Blaine had written for him so long ago.

_Never forget that_.

_I won't_, Kurt promised silently. _I'm never going to forget._

It wasn't a promise. It was a warning.

* * *

**I know the quote at the beginning seems kind of ironic now, but I put it there as Kurt's point of view on the matter. Kurt's spent his whole life relying on the idea of soulmates and love to get him through the hardships, knowing he was destined to end up with someone in the end and to not fret about it when it didn't matter at such a young age, but he thought Blaine could be his destiny, and then Blaine blows that out of the water by saying he doesn't believe in commitment and monogamy. Please don't hate me too much, I never write something without a happy ending, so keep that in mind! I think I have one more twist for this story, and then it should be about finished up, so we're in the home stretch. Thank you for reading, please review and favorite if you think this deserves it! xoxo Emma**


	5. Chapter 5

**Here it is, chapter five, the conclusion to Tongue Tied. I must say, I've enjoyed writing this story very much, considering the idea that came to me for this was very vague and this was only intended to be a one-shot. But it was a joy to write and to share with all of you. I'll put more acknowledgements and tearful farewells in the end, but for now, enjoy the end!**

* * *

"_But it is the nature of stars to cross, and never was Shakespeare more wrong than when he had Cassius note_, _'The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars / But in ourselves." _

_-The Fault In Our Stars  
_John Green

"_The more you try to crush your true nature, the more it will control you. Be what you are. No one who really loves you will stop."_

_-City of Fallen Angels  
_Cassandra Clare

"_She looked up at him with a smile. The smile broke what was left of his resistance – shattered it. He had let the walls down when he'd thought she was gone, and there was no time to build them back up."_

_-Infernal Devices  
_Cassandra Clare

"_Hold your tongue, hold it tight, or we'll be destined to fall like the sun did tonight . . . You know if we never say, we'll never crash and burn, 'cause love is a four letter word."_

_-_'4 Letter Word'  
David Cook

* * *

"So this is the Kurt I met at Thanksgiving, right?"

Blaine and his older brother Cooper were cleaning the dishes after dinner, Cooper washing and Blaine drying and putting them away. Cooper was home for a couple weeks, having just wrapped up a movie wanting to spend time with his family (which was code for: _I messed up another audition_). As soon as they were alone - their parents liked to hover - Blaine explained to him what had happened between Kurt and him at the zoo.

"Yes. Tall, brown hair and blue eyes."

Cooper nodded. "Handsome kid. Good head on his shoulders. You made each other really happy."

A stab of guilt cut through Blaine like a knife; what he did to Kurt had been inexcusable. Kurt didn't deserve that from him. That's why the older boy was better off without him.

"So why did you break up, again? You only mentioned that you did."

Blaine sighed heavily, distracting himself by drying a plate very thoroughly and carefully storing it away in the cabinet above his head. "Kurt was . . . too good for me."

"What are you talking about?" Cooper had stopped now, turning completely around to face him. Unlike Blaine, Cooper had clear blue eyes, which reminded him very much of Kurt's though they weren't even close in color. But like with Kurt, Blaine could always see his brother's emotions so reflective and spelled-out. Unlike himself, who was guarded, both men found no problem displaying their thoughts and feelings to the rest of the world. Blaine hadn't forgotten how well they'd gotten along; after Kurt's initial reaction of giddy shock, they'd found a common interest of cinema and had a very lengthy discussion that even Blaine couldn't follow. At the time he was just so happy to see Kurt and his family making an effort to become closer.

"I was only going to disappoint him if he stayed with me any longer." It wasn't exactly what Blaine planned to say, but he had trouble finding the right words. "And obviously that's what I did."

"What did you tell him?" Cooper folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the counter. Blaine smiled wistfully, noticing the sweater he was wearing was one Blaine had bought him for Christmas. Kurt had picked it out, saying how well the baby blue would flatter him; naturally he was right.

"Nothing, actually. I didn't have to. You know the musical I'm working on?" He waited until Cooper nodded, still wary and confused. "I made the mistake of leaving one of the songs lying around. He saw it and got upset by it."

"But how would he know that it was about him?"

"Because it had his name in it."

"Oh." Cooper put his head in his hands, obviously embarrassed or sympathizing for his brother. "Blaine." Blaine's face fell as he registered the note of disappointment in his voice.

"I cut him loose."

"Huh?"

"He told me that he loves me, Cooper and I can't . . . I couldn't say it back. If I acknowledged it, it would be so much more – more _real, _you know? I can't do that. I'd feel too vulnerable."

"So you let him go?"

Blaine wiped a tear away from the corner of his eye, unaware of how it'd gotten there. "He's better off without me, Cooper. I know that. Look how much pain I've already caused."

Cooper looked considerate for a moment, digesting his younger brother's words. "But are you better off without _him_?"

Blaine tugged at his curls, a cocktail of confusion and panic rising in his body with the pulse of his heart, coming closer and closer to overtaking his brain.

"Do you love him?"

"No." But his voice quivered.

"Yes you do. So how much do you love him? Enough to write a whole musical around him – fine, I snooped through your things, what else is new." Cooper reached out to place a large hand on Blaine's shoulder, and that seemed to ground the curly-haired boy momentarily "I've never seen you so excited over someone – over _anything _– before you met that boy. It was the first time I've really seen you happy since you came out." Cooper took in a deep breath. "I know you've always resented yourself for your sexuality, Blaine – don't lie to me," he scolded when Blaine shook his head in dissent. "You pushed your feelings aside for years because you feared the retaliation. I wish it could have been easier for you . . . I wish I could have been there to _do _something. After you got hurt—" his voice sounded forced.

"Coop-" Blaine tried to interject, but Cooper wouldn't allow it.

"I never forgave myself. I should have been there earlier, but I was running late, and I thought you might like some more alone time with your date besides, and instead you were almost beaten to death—" He paused and collected himself. "Kurt gave me new hope for you. I thought maybe he was the one."

"Isn't that for me to decide?"

"Please," Cooper scoffed. "I know you better than you know yourself. I would have never let Kurt anywhere _near _you if I thought he'd hurt you, in any way. It seemed I should have been protecting him from _you._" Blaine's mouth twitched. "So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Blaine said honestly. "I don't think he'll take me back. I don't even know if that's what I want. I just . . . miss him, you know? Like there's this physical pain in my chest when I think about him or hear his name . . ."

"Sounds like you're suffering from a bad case of heartbreak, bud," said Cooper, patting him on the back gently in what was meant to be a soothing gesture, but somehow only made Blaine feel worse. "It's very common, and there's no known cure. You just have to find a way to get over it."

Blaine looked up at his brother, who was considerably taller than himself. "What happened to you, the first time you fell in love?"

Cooper's mouth twisted up in to a wry smile. "Well, I was about thirteen," he said. "You were much too young to remember, but there was this girl in my English class who I thought was so beautiful. On Valentine's Day I put a very colorful and very public poster on her locker telling her that I was in love with her."

Blaine laughed. "What happened?"

"She never even spoke to me. She threw it in the trash along with my heart."

"She sounds kind of like a bitch."

Cooper nodded. "She was. That's why it was so easy for me to move on from her. I realize I didn't like her as much as I'd thought, after I saw how she treated me. But as for you," he said, bringing them back to the issue at hand, "I think it will be much more difficult. Because, honestly, it's kind of all your fault."

Blaine punched his brother in the ribs, which only caused him to laugh. He was right, though, and Blaine hated to admit that. "I know." His eyebrow twitched slightly upward before he became serious again. "I just don't know what to do, though."

Cooper pulled him in for a sideways hug, aligning their bodies and wrapping one arm around Blaine's shoulders, pulling him in tight. "Well, first you have to ask yourself some things. Do you love Kurt?"

Blaine hesitated, as he did every time he asked himself that question. He had told Kurt he didn't _believe _in love, but that wasn't strictly true. In that moment, the lie had been much easier than the truth: that Blaine was _afraid _of love, and the vulnerability that came with it. "Yes."

"Do you want to be Kurt's boyfriend?"

This question was easier, because in Blaine's mind, the two things were unrelated. You could be in a relationship and not feel _that way_ for one another. "Yes."

"Do you see a long-term future with this boy?"

Blaine's breath caught in his throat. He had always, all his life, been so focused on the present, absorbing all he could from what was happening around him at that specific moment in time, that he never looked ahead to what would happen next. Blaine's sole focus the past few months had been his musical and Kurt, and now one without the other meant nothing at all, because the musical was _for _Kurt. Blaine never imagined who he would end up with – didn't even know if he would _end up _anywhere at all – but if he had to decide, he knew Kurt would be a good choice. Blaine was flitting and impatient and everything with him was short-lived – settling down would mean having to give up that transitional life for one of monotony and monogamy. And that scared Blaine more than anything at all – giving up everything in the world, giving up his own _heart _– for this one human who could at any time choose to leave him for something or someone else. His parents had separated when he was young, after the loveless relationship and never-ending fighting became too much for them. After that, Blaine never believed he would marry and risk that kind of commitment when the repercussions were so severe. But he loved Kurt – now that he admitted it, it seemed to come to him much easier – and could feel it in the very core of his being. So if he had to lose everything, it would be worth it for Kurt. "Yes." And there was conviction in his voice. Not a hint of doubt.

"Then I think you have your answer."

"I love you," Blaine whispered, and his brother gripped him tighter.

"I love you too, bud. You'll get through it, I promise."

* * *

Kurt awoke that Saturday morning later than usual – he'd been sleeping a lot lately, his body shutting down to shake off this sickness that was plaguing him. But it wasn't a sickness; it was an affliction – a condition of the heart. He wasn't over Blaine's rejection, didn't know if he would ever be. The betrayal hurt more than anything else in his life, surpassed only but the event of his mother's death. Blaine's words had caused Kurt more pain than anything bullies had said to him in the past, because they came from a source of whom had once been his comfort and support.

He didn't need Blaine. Not if he didn't need him.

His alarm clock read ten fifteen: he would be late for work. He rubbed at his eyes, stretching his muscles and cracking his bones, trying to shake the sleep from his body. Kurt went in to the tire shop later than his father because of the need for extra beauty rest, usually rolling in around eleven to begin his secretarial duties. The last thing Kurt wanted was to put on a coverall and get his hair greasy. Most weekends working put a damper on Kurt's social plans, but that morning he could remember being more grateful for having something to keep him busy that day. He'd been going insane all week, seeing Blaine and not being able to talk to him or make eye contact. Without him, Kurt's days were becoming increasingly more suffocating. There was nothing and no one to alleviate the monotony of unbearably boring school days. Even Glee did nothing to cheer him up, instead reminding him of every single minute thing Blaine did that made Kurt fall in love with him.

And he couldn't understand it, still, even after a week and a half. How he could feel this way about someone, and that someone felt nothing of the same in return. Was it possible that Kurt had fallen too far and too fast, that Blaine had been trying to catch up to him but just didn't feel the same way? Kurt knew the answer to that question wasn't something he could handle.

Kurt showered quickly and dressed warmly, knowing Ohio would likely be blanketed in snow by noon. As Kurt grabbed for his jacket his fingers brushed against something soft on the hanger just beside it. Kurt pulled the sweatshirt from his closet instead and pulled it close to his chest, breathing in the fading scent of his ex-boyfriend all whilst knowing he would have to return it to him sometime soon. The thought of facing Blaine and actually having to speak _words _made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

Kurt tugged on his own jacket after having carefully hung up Blaine's and put it back in his closet (what was the harm in keeping it for a few more days?) and carefully laced up his boots. By the time he made his way downstairs to a surprisingly empty house – maybe Finn was out with Rachel – and grabbed his keys from the dish by the door, it was almost eleven already and he still had a ten minute drive. After thanking every higher power, not for the first time, that he worked for his father and could afford to be late, he opened the front door and was met instantly with a sharp gust of cold air. It was already snowing, it seemed, and it looked more like a blizzard than a flurry. Kurt was having a hard time seeing three feet in front of his face, making his way carefully down his icy front steps. Because there wasn't enough room in the driveway, Kurt's Navigator was parked across the street, and he began tramping through the hard snow across the lawn.

"Going somewhere?"

Kurt nearly fell into the tall bunker of snow piled high on the side of the road. He turned around as fast as he could without slipping to see Blaine, wrapped up tightly in gloves and scarves, his face pink and splotchy from the bitter cold. Seeing him set off fireworks in Kurt's chest, and he knew he'd been lying to himself. He didn't hate Blaine, couldn't hate him when he was still so beautiful and so perfect _standing right there in front of him. _Kurt's breath caught in his throat, the way it always did when he was this close, and for a moment Kurt wondered if Blaine would kiss him. But no, of course he wouldn't, because they were no longer together. Because Blaine didn't really feel that way about Kurt. This was not some act of love; Blaine wasn't here to fight for him, to get him back.

"Why are you here?" Kurt wondered genuinely, because it was cold and he was waiting for him outside instead of knocking on his door, and because really he had no excuse to be visiting him at his home.

"I came to talk." Blaine was very calm, his face smooth and emotionless; his golden eyes were guarded, and Kurt almost screamed in frustration because he was never able to read Blaine, never able to get into his mind and see what he was thinking.

"About?" Kurt's haughtiness had returned before he was even aware of it, his arms folding across his chest protectively; Blaine had already done so much damage in that area, he wasn't about to let him reopen the wounds.

Blaine hesitated, clearly seeing how instantly the wall went up in Kurt's eyes, blocking his emotions from Blaine, much like the first time they met. Blaine hated that he was the one who forced Kurt back into that dishonest mask. "Do we have to do it here?" His fingers were already beginning to go stiff.

"Well, I wasn't planning on this being a long conversation. I have somewhere to be," said Kurt disdainfully, looking down upon Blaine.

"In this weather?"

Kurt raised one eyebrow but stayed silent, and Blaine took that as an invitation to continue.

"I'm sorry about what I said."

That was clearly not what Kurt had been expecting, because he let his guard down for an instant. "I do believe in love-"

"You don't have to _lie _to me—"

"And I believe in you," Blaine finished. Kurt's blue eyes were so bright, pinpoints of light like stars reflecting back at Blaine. "And I believe in us." Kurt was simply staring at him, clearly at a loss for words. "When you told me you loved me, it scared me. I was never so terrified in all my life." And as Blaine gained momentum, his eloquence returned. "I love you, Kurt, and I've never felt something more intensely in my whole life, and I . . . got scared. Because when you talk about love, teenagers always talk about _forever _and I've never really thought I'd be with anyone forever. My parents were in love and said forever and they had one of the messiest divorces I've known. I didn't want to be like my mom, who was so torn up about the split that she tried to commit suicide, or like my father, who dealt with his pain by sleeping with every woman he met. The only relationships I've ever known were messy and destructive, so I didn't want one if it was going to make me unhappy. But I liked you, and before I even realized it, we were in a relationship and I knew sooner or later you'd be expecting a commitment from me and I just . . . freaked out. I didn't want to get too involved and end up hurting you, and so I broke it off to avoid hurting you, which made no sense because I hurt you anyway . . ." Blaine paused to catch his breath from the rant. "I want to undo it. I want to start over, and I want to be with you again."

Kurt looked similar to a deer caught in a car's headlights, frozen to the spot both literally and figuratively. So many things passed through his mind, bits of Blaine's words that didn't add up because no, of course Blaine didn't want to get back together . . . but then what had he _said_? "The—the song," he stammered because there was something about the equation that still wasn't adding up.

"Was something that I'd written as part of a whole," Blaine replied immediately. "The musical I'm writing is for _you, _Kurt. About our relationship, about the stages of it. It's not how I feel about you _now_, it's about how I felt _before_, when I didn't really know what we _were _and where we were going, and I just really wish we could fix this because I love you I love you I love you—"

"Stop!" Kurt's voice was high and breathy, not a scream but certainly close to it. "Blaine, stop talking, I need to think—"

"But Kurt, if you would just _listen_—"

"I _HAVE _been listening! For five months, I've been there for you, I've lifted and supported you and loved you unconditionally. And the minute things get a little scary for you, you ran out! You left me when I _needed _you. How could you leave me, Blaine? How could you _lie _to me about what you were feeling? How could you have just abandoned me, left me alone? I've been going insane without you, wondering what I'd done to push you away, to make you hate me so much. I replayed our fight over and over, regretting everything I'd said, wishing I could take it back just to have more time with you, and now _this?" _Kurt was fuming, his breath coming heavy, leaving clouds of white hanging in the air around him. "Fuck you, Blaine."

Blaine dived for his mouth, pulling in the older boy and holding him there, kissing him soundly and wetly, and teeth clashed and tongues tangled and it wasn't romantic, it was noisy and passionate and all they needed to warm up, their cheeks flushed against the chill. Blaine pulled back warily, afraid Kurt would run away or worse, hit him, but he just stood there, looking up into Blaine's eyes. And the wall was coming down, crumbling before his eyes, and this was the most vulnerable he'd seen him, completely exposed to whatever Blaine would do or say. Blaine brushed a snowflake from his eyelashes and tilted his head up for a sweeter, softer kiss, conveying to Kurt everything that he had not been able to say with words – he wanted to marry him, have a family with him, could imagine a future for them when he couldn't even see one for _himself. _That one kiss pulled them down from the clouds and roughly back down on to Earth, Kurt being Blaine's anchor and Blaine being Kurt's. For the first time in a while Kurt felt grounded, like he wouldn't float away at any second. Yes, this was the boy Kurt could see himself spending every day of the rest of his life with. This was everything he ever wanted, everything he would ever need, standing right there in his arms, blinking up at him, and his eyes were liquid with tears and he knew – he _knew _– that Blaine was thinking the same thing, and that those were happy tears. And the last thing Kurt had spoken out loud was _fuck you, Blaine, _and they seemed vastly inadequate to leaving hanging in the silence, so he whispered "I love you" into the boy's ear, and this time Blaine said it back with just as much conviction.

Kurt took his hands, freezing even through his gloves, and pulled him back toward the house, going to work completely forgotten. Kurt fumbled for his keys to unlock the door because Blaine was staring at him, and his expression was hungry and Kurt's legs tingled with frostbite and possibilities of what might happen. The minute he turned the key and fumbled himself through the doorway Blaine was there, pressing him up against the door, his mouth slanted over Kurt's while he worked on unzipping his coat and untangling the scarf from around his neck. Kurt's hands trembled as they worked on the buttons of Blaine's jacket, tearing it from his shoulders just as Blaine yanked Kurt's sweater over his head. Their breathing was labored as they took the moment of separation to regain some form of control, but then Blaine's thumbs were running over the skin just above the waistband of his jeans and there was no oxygen, Kurt couldn't _breathe. _Then Blaine was unbuttoning his jeans and dipping his fingers lower, moving his mouth to bite harshly at the delicate skin at Kurt's neck, and _oh God_, that felt good. Kurt pushed him away, gesturing vaguely to the stairs and Blaine thankfully took the hint, running up the stairs with Kurt in tow, pulling his shirt up over his head as he went, and Kurt had a moment to admire the view of his tight rippling back muscles and his ass which was swaying back and forth in front of his face. Kurt pushed Blaine through his bedroom door and on to the bed, at once attacking his neck and licking the spots he created, relishing every moan that left Blaine's lips. They were unprepared, virgins in every way, but Kurt couldn't imagine wanting Blaine more than he did in this moment, when their hips slotted together and _oh my God Blaine was _right there_ . . . _His hips pressed down in the same moment that Blaine's bucked up, and this was so new to them but it was _right. _Hands were _everywhere_, circling nipples and brushing over ribs, traveling down to clutch at hipbones and tight stomachs. They kissed until their lips were raw and swollen, crashing their hips together with needy whines and then Blaine's world came crashing down around him first, quickly followed by Kurt, both thrashing in ecstasy as their whimpers turned to screams.

Kurt collapsed on top of Blaine, who kissed the top of his head absentmindedly while stroking across his slick bare skin. "I love you," he heard Kurt murmur into his skin at the hollow of his throat, and he hummed appreciatively at the way Kurt was tracing circles on the inside of his bicep. Blaine's felt sticky and a little uncomfortably, but the way Kurt was blanketing him was too nice to pass up.

He looked to his left in the hope of finding tissues or something else to clean up with, but found something much more exciting than that. In the same place as it had been the last time he'd explored Kurt's room, was Blaine's note. It was worn out, the edges torn, as if it had been opened and refolded many times. Now that Blaine had time to concentrate on anything other than Kurt, he had realized something had been missing from the room surrounding him. With a jolt he realized that it was his own face – Kurt had had so many pictures of the two of them framed and stuck up everywhere, and they were all gone. But this note, written so many years ago and only recently changing hands, remained, and it was more of a sentiment than any picture of himself that Kurt had kept. This note was what brought them together, what kept them together even when they were so close to falling apart completely. And Blaine felt luckier than he ever had in his life to be holding this boy in his arms, to know he was his forever. And as he heard Kurt's breathing slow as he drifted off to sleep, Blaine couldn't have been happier.

Kurt was his forever, his eternity, his infinity. Up until the day he died this would be the only place he wanted to be – right here in his arms.

* * *

**It is finished! I might cry, I've become really attached to this story. I hope everyone who reads this, whether you favorited or alerted or reviewed or whether you've been reading silently, has enjoyed it! Let me know what you thought of the ending, please? It would make me very happy. I love all of you, thank you for sticking with me this far! I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. Byebye! xoxo**


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